The Raven Man
by vnwelcome
Summary: A single black raven haunts the Moors' sky, a heavy cloud of loneliness clinging to his wings. As time goes on, Diaval finds himself becoming more and more human, and an inexplicable ache settles deep in his heart as he watches those he is close to begin to grow and love, without him. Can a creature of flight fly away from his own heart? (Diaval/OC)
1. 1

The cold bit tersely against the winter wind, staining the bleak Moors with the severity of a bitter, lingering remark. The single, stark cry of a black raven crossed the otherwise desolate sky, the bird soaring until the lonely sound dissolved into the dark forest, an inky rumor too dark to circulate far. The raven cloaked itself in the twisting blotted branches of the woods, swooping into the snowy forest glen with a practiced silence. His black eyes reflected the ice like obsidian, frozen in winter's merciless breath. December was angry, cruel to the villagers that shivered in icy huts across the valley; casting a hollow shadow in the Moors every year, only ever outdone by its faerie guardian. Her name was always on the wind, its quiet whisper a shiver of the forest:

_Maleficent,_it said.

"Diaval, you're late."

She stepped out of the shadows like a specter, dark horns curling from her regal head, eyes narrowed with just enough menace and just enough regality to make the winterbuds bristle in their frosted bushes. Maleficent waited, elegant and just a touch twisted, her long black cloak trailing her. There was a puff of sooty smoke, and a tall, pale young man replaced the raven by Maleficent's side.

"Oi! Can you give a bird a warning?" Diaval said, grimacing and shaking the snowflakes from his black sleeves.

"When have I ever?" Maleficent responded, her expression unchanged. She sighed sarcastically as the raven-turned-man rubbed his hands together, the crescent scars on his chest, neck, and head raised with goosebumps.

"It's too cold this year. Something's wrong," he noted. Diaval glanced at his mistress, vague concern and suspicion etched into his sharp, angular features. Maleficent glared at her companion, red lips pursed.

"Nothing is _wrong._" She turned around and paced the glen, her footprints glazing over with ice as she walked. "So? What of the east river?"

The hint of a smile shone on Diaval's crow like face, realization settling in his mind.

"Ah, I see. It's the girl. Aurora. Her sixteenth birthday is nigh."

"I sent you to examine the state of the river, Diaval."

"You love her."

A sudden blast of ice froze the glen with the forceful thud of the faerie's stick, throwing Diaval back several meters. Maleficent whipped around, her strikingly alive eyes wide with malice, and to her longtime confidant's perceptive eyes, fear.

"I do not love," she insisted, green magic swirling angrily in her fist.

"The river has frozen. In all the history of the Moors and magic, the east river has remained free and flowing. It's you, mistress. You care for Aurora, and you know there's no stopping the curse."

Diaval spoke freely, knowing his voice was clear and unwelcome in Maleficent's ears. "Only you can help her, you know." He searched her alarming and alarmed eyes and waited for the inevitable poof of his transformation. Maleficent opened her mouth as if to speak to him, but the wave of her hand sent Diaval into a puff of jet black feathers. He cawed at his mistress respectfully, and then left in a flurry of snow. Diaval surveyed the dreary white and black of the valley, finding that an uncomfortable chill had settled in his ruffled chest. He let loose a bitter, lonesome caw—Maleficent still had room in her anguished heart to love, and she ran away from what Diaval knew she wanted. What he himself could never have. Somewhere in his raven heart, he ached for love, to feel and be felt. The loneliness did not leave him hollow—rather, it dragged him down the sky, the persistent, dull thud of his heart growing heavier and less birdlike each time he took flight. He beat his wings, wondering, eyes fixed on the outskirts of the forest where a small cottage lay nestled in the snow.


	2. 2

Diaval was never really alone; he thought, his heavy cloud of loneliness always seemed to be at his side. The late winter wind blew pale shadows from underneath his outstretched wings, the harsh cold of Maleficent's exile peacefully absent from the Moors and the happy kingdom. Queen Aurora ruled well and wisely, and Diaval knew the pride that swelled in his chest for her did the same in Maleficent's and the people's. Although no longer obliged to serve her, Diaval stayed by Maleficent's side and was a close companion to the young queen, never too far from the blissful Moors. Still, unrest churned inside him. He spent most of his time in his bird form, flying aimlessly from the castle to the village to the forest, his wings having to beat harder each time. He found himself watching the humans, finding an unfamiliar interest in the pair of old men's intertwined hands as they walked down a village alley, or the way the girl laughed as her companion wrapped his arms around her, or the way his own mistress gently smiled as Aurora and Phillip grew older and redder in each other's company. Diaval did not love as a raven. As a human, however, and he feared that he was rapidly becoming one, he began to hope to.

Diaval swooped low into the edges of the forest, searching for the cottage he once watched over intently each day. He had not been back since the day of Aurora's coronation, and Maleficent rarely had business near this edge of the Moors. Nostalgia lured him closer to the beaten path of the cabin, the frost already beginning to melt from the frozen grass the way that the black night fades for the approach of dawn. However, the grass wasn't only paving the path for spring. Footprints dotted the road, and the old, quaint cottage roof spouted a thin stream of smoke, unnoticeable from anywhere but this close. Diaval hopped closer, intrigued. Not many villagers wandered this far from town, even less dwelled. He flew onto the rickety gate just as the front door opened to a grimacing young woman who pushed a rusty red wheelbarrow down the path. She set it down with a huff by the pile of firewood stacked beside the gate.

"Hello, raven," she acknowledged Diaval, turning to stoop down and pick up the rest of the wood.

"Hello, maiden."

Diaval had transformed into his human self, a new ability granted by Maleficent, and his gravelly voice startled the young woman, who dropped the wood she had been struggling to carry with a sharp gasp. She whipped around, her worn moss-colored dress and pale, stunned face sooty, throwing splinters in Diaval's direction. Her blackened hand was raised to open lips, strands of dark hair stuck to her clammy cheek. Diaval, quite amused and quite curious, found an odd beauty in the wide, increasingly angry, shocking blue of her eyes. He noticed the mess of firewood now at her feet with a small pang of guilt.

"Sorry. Can I help you with that?" he reached over to pick up a block of dry wood, keeping his glance on the woman and waiting for her reaction.

She came back to life suddenly, her eyes narrowing as she shoved Diaval away roughly, gathering her skirts and stepping away from him as she stumbled in the frosty grass. Diaval suppressed a chuckle; he often found amusement in changing abruptly in front of people he was meeting for the first time now that he had control over his transformations.

"Who, or _what_, are you?"

The maiden's voice rang out like an ironworker's mallet in an empty room, vehemently addressing him. Diaval straightened, adjusting his black trench coat and letting a relaxed smile break open across his mouth, focusing on the small crease centered where her thin black brows arched together. He flicked his gaze back down to her eyes, which regarded him warily.

"I am Diaval. This cottage was once something of a home of mine, long ago. And who, lovely miss, are you?" he introduced himself, crowlike voice weary from lack of use, but retaining brightness. The maiden turned her head, shadows falling across her neck and bony shoulders. Diaval watched her watch him.

"You…you were the raven?" she asked tentatively, chin held aloft, still unsure. Diaval nodded. The woman took a step closer; cold eyes alight with something like wonder. "You must be from the Moors."

Diaval smiled lopsidedly. "Something like that."

She took another step, placing her hands at her hips. Her breath wisped visibly in the winter air like the note of a lute.

"Why are you here?" she questioned. Diaval thought her voice sounded like a faraway queen's. He was used to hearing such regality in Maleficent, but this young woman was no faerie, and certainly not a princess, from the tatters near the bottom of her plain dress.

"I'm merely visiting. I was curious to what had happened to this old place. I must say I hadn't expected anyone to have taken it up," he obliged. The maiden gave a small nod, looking from the firewood splayed across her feet to Diaval's black eyes. Her steady, unafraid gaze pulled him a step closer. "And I can't help to notice that you've ignored my first question." He said with a slight smile. The woman raised her fine brows.

"Maybe I don't trust you," she said, and after a pause, "but maybe I could use another pair of arms to lift this firewood. Or, excuse me, wings?"

Diaval nodded, grinning. "Of course, …?" he knelt to kiss her hand, waiting for her name. Instead, she heaved a block of wood into his outstretched arm.

"Eponine," she said, and started piling wood into her wheelbarrow.

"Eponine," Diaval repeated, admiring the graceful way it left his lips. He sighed and began his work, marveling at how he was already doing another's bidding after only a day away from Maleficent and the castle.

It took them little time to heave the firewood together, and the already-dimming sky crept up upon Diaval stealthily. He watched Eponine as she turned away and pushed the wheelbarrow up to the door, noting the silky strands of ebony hair falling away from the long braid that hung loosely down her back. The cold started to settle in, and Diaval shook his dark hair, a few inky feathers falling from his head. He glanced back at Eponine, feeling a soft smile creep up on his mouth, then turned and was a raven in a small plume of silent black smoke. As Diaval soared away, he felt oddly lighter, as if that burdensome cloud of loneliness had faded if only a bit. This young woman was curiously singular, and Diaval knew he would be coming back to see her very soon. It was good to know that the cottage was in such capable hands. He croaked a single, long caw, and then flapped into the sky, heart fluttering along with his wings.

Eponine turned back to her yard to thank the mysterious young raven man, her small smile faltering when she saw the empty garden. From the sky, a raven cawed, and she looked up just as Diaval disappeared into the evening. Slowly, a single black feather drifted down towards her, dancing as if held aloft by puppet strings. Eponine reached out and caught it gently in her calloused hands. It was soft and lighter than air, and the deepest black, darkness like that of the starless sky on a particularly lonely night.

Somehow, it didn't seem so lonely that night.


	3. 3

"Diaval! There you are, pretty bird! Where have you been flying off to?" Queen Aurora's singsong voice chimed like bells in the throne room, her eyes alight at the sight of Diaval gliding in through the open paneled window. He squawked in greeting and morphed into his human form, a couple of midnight feathers fluttering about in his wake. Aurora smiled as Diaval knelt to give her a small kiss on her outstretched hand.

"Nowhere special, really, m'lady." Diaval said, smiling. Thoughts of the old cabin swirled in his mind, images of its current occupant taking up significant amounts of space in his head.

The queen frowned playfully, "Come along, there must be a reason you've been gone so often. Getting bored of us?" She pouted, moving a strand of pale sunny hair behind her ear.

"Never!" Diaval insisted, watching with something of a fatherly gaze as Aurora laughed. "I've just been back to the cottage, you remember? It's—" Aurora cut him off with a delighted gasp.

"Of course, how could I ever forget my lovely home? We should make a visit soon. Has it become quite dilapidated?" Aurora asked, worry pulling her eyebrows together. Diaval shook his head.

"No, nothing like that. In fact…well, someone's made it their home." Diaval fidgeted a bit, the clean stones at his feet suddenly becoming more interesting than the queen's wondering eyes.

"Why, that's wonderful. I do hope they're getting along well. I'd quite like to meet him, or her, or—oh!"

Diaval shot his head up at Aurora's cry, meeting her mischievous grinning face.

"It's a girl, isn't it? It _is_!" Aurora burst into mirthful giggles as Diaval felt his normally gaunt, cool cheeks heat up. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and he panicked for a moment, unfamiliar with the redness in his face and the sweat on his palms. He stumbled backward, not knowing what to do with himself as Aurora continued laughing. "Diaval, you silly man."

Diaval looked up, her words echoing oddly in his ears. _Man, _he thought.

"You've misunderstood, m'lady; it's nothing. I mean, it's something, but we've only ever spoken once, and she's just a human—" Diaval was cut off abruptly amidst his stammering again, this time by his mistress as she strolled, eyebrow raised, into the room.

"What _she_?" Maleficent regarded her compatriot skeptically, resting a hand on Aurora's shoulder as the queen smirked giddily.

"Mistress, it's just a small misunderstanding," Diaval insisted as he dipped his head in a respectful bow.

"I think not," she spoke, "I've seen you fly about the edges of the wood where the cottage lies quite often. Is someone there?"

"Diaval fancies the young maiden that's taken up residence in my old house!" Queen Aurora said decidedly, glancing at Diaval, who stood exasperated and confused in front of them. Maleficent's brows shot up.

"Really?" In her tone was a curiosity rarely voiced. Diaval shook his head.

"Mistress, Aurora, she's but a maiden I came across out of curiosity and happenstance. Nothing more." His voice was deep and hoarse and as honest as he could convince himself he was being. He remembered all the times he flew over the cottage in the past few weeks after meeting Eponine, never mustering enough courage to swoop down a little lower.

Aurora frowned, seemingly believing of his confession. She mumbled passive acceptance and turned to walk out of the throne room, smiling at Diaval and her godmother before attending to her queenly duties. Maleficent, however, stood still, gazing at Diaval as if she had hidden knowledge. They stayed in silence for a while, regarding each other like the old friends they were. Then, Maleficent fluttered her huge wings and turned on her heel, stalking out of the throne room after Aurora. As she left the acoustic room, Diaval thought he heard the slightest whisper tumble from her ruby red lips:

_I did this to you._

Diaval shivered. _Had she?_

* * *

Diaval kept silent on his flight back to the forest. His mind was persistent on recreating Eponine's coal-colored, messy braid and the quiet dip of her nose, absent of freckles. Her demeanor was of an elegant, aloof swan's, but the roughness of her hands and the strong grip of her nimble fingers told Diaval that she was not as dainty as she seemed. He wanted to hear the cellos of her voice sing again, and waltz to their dark melody.

When Diaval landed on cottage's fence, the chimney spurted nothing but late February air. The clearing was quiet, the lack of birdsong unsettling to Diaval's raven ears. He decided to wait for her, presuming she was out; maybe on errands in the village or taking a stroll to the Moors. He hopped off the fence and flew onto the branch of a small apple tree nearby, pecking at an apple before changing shape and plucking it off the tree with his human hands. Before taking a bite, he paused, and then reached up to grab another apple. He set it beside him and leaned back against the tree trunk, taking a bite and thinking.

* * *

Maleficent watched Diaval wait for the girl, quietly wondering when her wings had flown off and away from her. She saw the smile stretch across Diaval's face as the girl appeared on the path, and walked off, a smile hinting at her lips.

* * *

Eponine did not expect to see the raven man ever again, assuming the occasional rain of midnight feathers that dusted her garden were from passing birds of the not-raven kind. So when she looked up from her woven basket of winterbud berries to none other than Diaval, jumping down from the always-fruitful apple tree with a small smile pulling up the left side of his lips, she was a little more than surprised. She hadn't decided whether it was pleasant or not when the raven man spoke, facing her as she stopped by the gate.

"Eponine," he said, black eyes sparkling, "For you." He held out a lovely looking red apple. Eponine watched the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"Thank you," she said, slightly cautious in taking the apple, "Diaval." His name fell off her tongue like a bird taking flight. She noticed when he smiled a little wider. "So, is there a reason you've come back? Missed me?"

Diaval decided he liked when she joked. "I might've," he responded. Eponine smiled, and it lit up her eyes so that they sparkled like the melting ice around them. Diaval's heart beat a little faster.

"Alright, raven man. Birds are supposed to be good at sorting berries, aren't they?" Eponine said, flicking her gaze up an inch or two to his eyes.

"The best, actually." Diaval told her, opening the gate for her.

"Good." She walked past him, and they entered the cottage, which smelled like witch hazel and firewood, just like it always had. Eponine set her basket down on the wooden table along with the apple and pulled out a handkerchief, laying it out on the surface. She then promptly took a seat and began sorting, plump blue winterbud berries on the hankie and unripe, poisonous white ones tossed aside into the waste basket at her feet. Diaval took a seat across from her, and set to work, quietly observing the unchanged, cozy cottage and the furrows of her brows as Eponine concentrated on trying not to poison herself in the future. They sat in silence for some time.

"You're him, aren't you?" she suddenly said, keeping her eyes glued to the blue stains on her fingers as she separated the last of her berries. Diaval frowned.

"What do you mean?" he cocked his head. Eponine looked up, crossing her hands together on the table.

"The bird-man who serves the Queen and the faerie guardian. We commoners aren't exactly daft, you know." The glacial shards in her eyes pierced into Diaval's. Diaval slowly nodded.

"Yes, I am," he said, "but I'm anything from royalty. Of course, I obviously should be. The queen and Maleficent would've never survived the battle in the castle without me, you know. If only she weren't turning me into a dog or beastly dragon all the time—well, not anymore, granted, thank heavens for that." Diaval rambled, shaking his head. Eponine watched him, eyebrow raised, barely containing a giggle.

"What a vain bird you are," she teased. Diaval fixed her with a vaguely offended stare, lip twitching. Eponine chuckled, pulling up the ends of the full handkerchief and dumping the contents back into her basket.

"What does one have to do for a bit of respect, honestly?" Diaval said, exasperated. He caught Eponine's smile and stifled a laugh. "Is this how you treat all your guests?"

Eponine scoffed, getting up. "Only the ones I like."

Diaval beamed dazedly, mumbling "Fair," as his heart fluttered in a way he was only accustomed to his wings doing. Eponine went to set the basket on her kitchen counter, wiping her hands on her stained smock before pulling it off. She sighed, and then turned to Diaval, hands on her hips.

"Let's see it then, Diaval." she stared at him expectantly. Diaval stood confusedly for only a moment before understanding. He nodded, and suddenly he was replaced by a raven, perched on the back of Eponine's wooden chair. Diaval cawed gently at Eponine's sharp intake of breath.

"Remarkable," she whispered, stepping closer. She reached out hesitantly, and ran a hand over Diaval's sleek feathers. He reveled in her small smile. She took her hand away, and allowed Diaval to turn back with a puff of dark smoke. Eponine's heart stuttered softly when a familiar black feather fell to the floor. He held out his arms in a half shrug. Eponine brightened, charmed. "Diaval, would you like to stay for supper?"

"I'd like nothing more, Eponine." Diaval grinned.

He helped her prepare a small dinner, and they shared wit and smiles over shepherd's pie and fresh winterbud berries. Her eyes did not linger on his scars and his did not shy away from her rough hands. Diaval loved her loud laugh. Eponine loved the hoarse lilt of his voice.

After dinner was done and the table was cleared and cleaned, and the sun had set behind the forest and the black of the night outdid the darkness of Diaval's eyes and Eponine's hair, Diaval stood at the gate, (not) ready to go. The moonlight flooded against Eponine's pale skin as it left Diaval darker in its shadow. He held out his hand to take hers, ducking down to kiss it when she instead took his in her own and reached up to plant a quiet, lingering kiss on his cheek. Diaval's human heartbeat rivaled his raven's. When she pulled away, their eyes opened simultaneously.

"Good night, Diaval." she said.

"Good night, Eponine." And he was a raven again, blending into shadows of the night, his wingbeats pushing warmth into Eponine's bare neck despite the chill.

The last few days of winter became surprisingly warm.


	4. 4

"Diaval, you cheat!" Eponine exclaimed, sunlight dappling her face beneath the lush green of leaves. She pulled herself up to a higher branch with a huff as she watched the raven flutter up to the top of the apple tree, fluffing his feathers and crowing triumphantly. Eponine set her jaw, determined to best her bird companion in their climbing competition. She reached for the final branch and jumped, but with a sharp tug, she slipped on the hem of her dress, shattering her balance. She gave a startled gasp before her feet slipped and she fell backwards to the unforgiving earth.

With imperceptible speed, the raven shot down from the tree, shifting into a human just as Eponine reached the end of her rapid descent. She landed heavily and all at once into his arms. The impact elicited terrified cries from both of them and Diaval was thrown on his back, both of them rolling into the grass.

Eponine, head spinning, heart racing, hands shaking, closed her eyes against Diaval's chest and let their heavy breaths cloud the early spring air. They were silent for a long while, shock starting their pulses and time eventually absorbing their panting. Diaval opened his eyes and met the blues of Eponine's. He could count her eyelashes.

"I'd be dead," she whispered with open lips, fearful realization and something deeper, more unclear swirling in her almost-teary eyes, "if you hadn't been here." Her breath was warm and his was warmer as he answered her back.

"I know," he croaked, the rumbling of his chest sending shivers down Eponine's spine. Her closeness sent his pulse skyrocketing again, their noses brushing. "Glad you kept me around, aren't you?" Diaval whispered with a gaze serious enough to turn his black eyes abyssal before their lips met and he couldn't get his hands out of her hair and she couldn't let go of him if she tried.

"Very," she whispered between kisses, loving the way he smiled against the skin of her neck. Eponine sighed and Diaval pulled her closer, his hands finding the back of her neck as hers held his hollow, reddened face. They broke apart, leaning against each other's foreheads, breaths mingling hotly. They said nothing, and didn't need to; staying curled in each other's arms, the long grass shielding them from the bright spring sun.

"Stay for supper?"

"I'm not leaving, love."


	5. 5

The raven's wings were tired. His once effortless flight became labored, and he found that the wind seemed to regard him with shady sideways glares and blew harshly against him, unusually chilly for the April air. His soaring human heart went unsupported by his bird wings.

Maleficent noticed this, watching her raven companion with sharp eyes. She noted the slight delay of his transformations back to a bird and the swiftness in the way he fluidly became human. His constant smiling and new, happy-go-lucky attitude hid the slight creases in his brow and the desperate caws that could not escape his human throat. Guilt settled itself deep in her chest.

She warned him one day, her past haunting her. She would not have her wings lose his wings just as she had lost hers. Maleficent waited by her throne in the Moors, spring treating the forest kindly and leaving bright flowers and vines all over the land. She snapped her fingers as he swooped down, changing him herself.

"Oi! Can't a man get a warning? I can do it on my own now, anyway," Diaval complained, straightening his black shirt. Midnight feathers tousled his hair, which probably had been previously mussed by smaller hands.

"Diaval. We've been missing you around the castle, you know. Aurora's been driving us mad with her excited chatter over you and your new friend, the little beastie."

The mention of the Queen brought a slight smile to both of their faces. Diaval was essentially a father to her; after all, he had looked after her since the day her little feet touched the feet of what was now Eponine's cottage.

"Of course you miss me. What would you do without me?" He laughed easily, and Maleficent cocked a brow. "Mistress," he corrected, bowing his head slightly. Maleficent held back a chuckle. How she still instilled a healthy amount of fear in her closest friend still surprised and pleased her.

"How is she?" The faerie guardian asked, seemingly disinterested. Diaval grinned, eager to talk about his sweetheart.

"Eponine? Lovely. Quite lovely," he said, coloring slightly when Maleficent flicked her gaze up to his eyes, expression always hinting at condescending. "I feel oddly different when I'm with her. She's a bit like you, you know, so elegant and proud. There's not a bird in the sky like Eponine." Diaval gushed quietly. Maleficent was intrigued by the girl, but worry outweighed her curiosity.

"And there will be one less bird in the sky if this carries on," she said, her gaze sharp and serious. Diaval frowned, confused.

"What d'you mean, mistress—"

"Diaval, you are a raven. Not a human. Humans are fickle things that will bend and break your heart. They are not to be trusted. You've been having trouble flying lately, haven't you? Finding your feathers duller and your human hair shinier?"

The man stiffened, prideful and offended, if agreeing with Maleficent's vicious words. She cut him off again before he could defend Eponine.

"She will steal your wings, Diaval. And you will never get them back."

Maleficent's words echoed in Diaval's skull, banging against the sides of his head like an aggressive, blustery wind. Fear clawed at his throat. He needed to fly, and fly far. He turned to go, but found Maleficent's green eyes instead.

"Be careful, Diaval. There is no greater pain than love," she whispered, then beat her majestic brown wings and flew up and away.

Diaval's heart ached once more, but this time, it was his raven's.

_Choose_, her voice said.


	6. 6

The residual sweetness of spring lingered on their tongues as the heat of summer swept the green grass of the Moors back and let sunlight filter across their shiny black hair—Diaval and Eponine's love rose in temperature as summer swelled and some nights the sweat on their necks wasn't from the blistering sun.

Ravens preferred winter. Humans, however, thrived in summer.

Diaval's feathers melted at her touch, and no matter how heavy his wings became, his heart fluttered with the strength of a million flying doves. Eponine's breath caught when he was near, and with every hitch and sigh and breathy whisper she realized that there was never enough air.

Not for him, anyway—never enough wind, never enough flight, never enough altitude. She worried that the ground, simple and unmoving where she stood, would never be enough. He hushed her fears again and again but even with his lips on hers she could not help but to feel like he was slowly slipping and he could not help but to fall backwards and away from her, just the same way as he had fallen into her.

* * *

"Diaval." she spoke his name softly, moonlight filtering into the cottage and finding wrinkles in the bed sheets to settle in. His eyes, almost indistinguishable from the dark, listened more intently than his ears, watching her earnest expression and waiting for the words he didn't want to hear. "You're going to fly away from me."

It was her honesty that hurt the most. His grip around her waist slackened.

"Eponine, you know that I lo—"

"Yes, I know that you love me, but I know that you can't be human. You can't stay here with me, Diaval, you're a bird, and you need to be free." Eponine's eyes gave way to tears, an unusual visitor on her face. Diaval hated the way they pooled underneath her chin and the stutter of her lip and hated how she looked at him, unrelenting, truthful.

"And you think by telling me this that I'll somehow stop loving you and fly away like the bird I am? As if you're freeing me from confinement, doing me justice, like your acceptance of my inevitable flight is a service to me?" Diaval accused ungently. He shook his head, uncannily like a raven, bringing one of his hands from her hips to hover by her wet cheek, not touching her. She'd always reminded him of a beautiful black swan, elegant and alluring, a wonderful oddity. He sighed, frustration squeezing his hand into a fist. She reached up and took it in her hands.

"I don't want to be the cause of your pain," she whispered, voice cracking, "I don't want to take your wings away."

Her eyes froze like glaciers when he stifled a choked cry, looking back up to her eyes, searching with the gaze of a lost man.

"You've already stolen them, love."

* * *

She approached Maleficent as summer evaporated into autumn, fallen leaves crunching underneath her boots and wind tousling her black hair and biting her rouged cheeks. The Moors were beautiful in the fall, but Eponine had not the spirit to fall in love with the burnt orange auburns and deep violets of the trees. Maleficent was surprised to see her, rising from her faerie tree throne.

"Eponine," she said, voice full. Eponine ducked her head in respect, desperate determination clouding her face.

"Your Highness," she said, "I have come to ask for your help."

Maleficent narrowed her eyes instinctively. The absence of her raven companion for the past few days had not gone unnoticed by either of them.

"And what, pray tell, is it that you need?"

"I want you to give me wings."

Maleficent would've laughed if the girl's voice hadn't been so powerful and deliberate.

"What makes you think I can—"

"I know you can. You gave feet to Diaval, didn't you?" Eponine countered, stepping forward. Maleficent regarded her with old eyes. The part of her that would never love again felt only pity, but her heart, warmed from years of caring for her goddaughter, was more sympathetic.

"Are you sure?" Maleficent asked, a gentle crease on her brow.

"Yes." Eponine said, unwavering.

"No." Diaval's voice came from behind her, hoarse and heavy. Maleficent sighed as Eponine whipped around, unready for their imminent display of angry love.

"It's the only way! We can never be together like this," she yelled. Diaval stepped toward her.

"It's too late!" he nearly screamed. "I can never be a raven again, Eponine. You've stolen my wings, my beautiful feathers, my heart. I cannot fly without the weight of having loved bearing down on me like the burden of a thousand collapsing suns, I cannot forget about you."

"And you cannot be human without wanting to fly far, far away. Away from me." Eponine searched his careworn face. He did not argue further.

Maleficent looked at her old friend and saw sadness too great for her to bear. Guilt consumed her. She took a breath, and then spoke with finality:

"Then fly."


	7. 7

Each winter, when the Moors had frozen over in glittering icy sheets of bright snow and the chill of the wind crystallized her breath, Maleficent visited the Despond, a small lake deep in the heart of the Moors fed by the always-running east river. Throughout the year, it served as a quaint rendezvous place for couples, magic or not, a picnic park, and a lovely place to sit quietly and enjoy the sounds of the forest. The lake was the piercing, icy blue of eyes that Maleficent knew once, long ago. The barren trees drooped with December, frost lacing their brown branches like gloves, dusting Maleficent with faint snowy powder as she walked regally past. The bleak sky was void of sun, but the cold didn't bother the faerie queen. She stopped at the frozen bank of the Despond, eyes fixed to a melted point in the center of the otherwise glassy lake.

A beautiful black swan rested on the surface, her glossy feathers shining with frost, neck stretched in an elegant curve. She swam peacefully in small circles, majestic in a quiet, mysterious way.

High above the lake, a raven black as pitch flew in circles, his hoarse caws echoing despondently across the lake. He swooped down to the surface of the Despond, fluttering gently to perch beside the swan on the ice. The raven caught Maleficent's gaze, but his dark eyes were absent of any spark, any light. Maleficent did not try to hide her sorrow.

She gave them wings, but took their hearts.

_fin._

* * *

**a/n:** Thank you so much, readers, for following this story until its end. This concludes the tale of the Raven Man, and hopefully you enjoyed it. All feedback, positive or negative, is welcome (despite my username). Have a lovely day!


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